


Trust in the Sky

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Futurefic, M/M, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-12
Updated: 2008-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You only think you know. [12/27/06]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust in the Sky

## Trust in the Sky

by silvina

[]()

* * *

Standard Disclaimer. See, here's the thing. I had a bad day when most of this was written. It's not excuse, but it made me feel better. Please send comments, questions, compliments, and otters to sdelcul@yahoo.com. 

"Damn it!" Lex Luthor threw his glass against the wall, waiting for the sound of shattering glass. It didn't happen. He had been drinking from one of the new "shatter-proof" glass cups made from a new polymer developed by a LuthorCorps subsidiary. 

He was trying so hard to not be sober, but the highs didn't last like they used to. The temptation to curl into a ball and cry fought with the urge to hurt someone the way he'd been hurt. The way he'd allowed himself to be made vulnerable Lionel Luthor would say. Didn't matter. He wasn't going to cry. 

At that thought he began to feel something, realizing only from the splatter of blood on his shoe that he had dug his nails into his palm hard enough to bleed. With difficulty he pulled his eyes away from the pictures burning in the fireplace. The pooling blood held his attention for long seconds as he hestitated, torn between stopping the bleeding and letting it continue as proof of . . . something. Self-preservation kicked in and distracted him long enough to sit down. Probably a good idea. He fell asleep quickly, dreaming of nothing. 

Sometime later he woke up with a pounding headache. Abruptly, he remembered what he was trying to forget. His father and _Clark_. If he hadn't seen the pictures himself, if he hadn't known instantly that they weren't faked, but were real live pictures of something he wouldn't have -couldn't have- forseen; maybe then he still would have felt the same way. 

The worst part, all of it was bad, but the worst part was that the pictures made the possibility of explanation impossible. _Circumstances_ did not explain what he had proof of--proof he wished to Hell he'd never seen. He'd seen a few episodes of that show "Cheaters" once, caught among Clark's friends for a 'break' that Clark insisted he take from work. He'd winced when they showed the client the videotape proof of their loved ones indiscretions. They'd suspected what was going on, but suspecting it and seeing insult in front of their face was different. He hadn't suspected a thing. 

His watch was smeared with blood from his hand. Perfect symbolism really. Mother and son both bled as Father and what was Clark anyway? His boyfriend? Lover? Fuckbuddy? Obviously he didn't have any hold on Clark, and his father had certainly never differentiated between what was his and what was his son's when Lex had something he wanted. Victoria should have been another warning of the danger he was in. Love, loyalty, all those lessons he had been learning from the Kents were really only secrets and lies. 

The lessons of Smallville. Trust in the sky and it will fall. 

The negatives on his desk and the handwritten notes of his detective revealed a pattern. Dates and times seemed to vary, but the location was always the same. His apartment in Metropolis. Obviously his father was better informed then he thought. 

The need to see for himself hit hard. He'd regret it later, he knew, but right now he needed to see the apartment. This is where they - and over there too. Burn the bedsheets, scrub the kitchen counters with industrial strength chemicals. LuthorCorp was good for that too. 

This time when he left the mansion he told nobody. It wasn't like there was anybody left to trust anyway. The backroads to Metropolis took a little longer, especially since he wasn't drawing attention to himself by speeding in a fancy car. The maintenance truck he'd borrowed from the plant wasn't built for speed and acceleration like the Porche was. 

He went in through the front instead of using the back entrance. This time, the way to sneak in was unusually obvious. Luck was decidedly _not_ on his side. Lights were on in the apartment. He let himself in quietly, but it was a waste of energy to be that quiet. Nobody was in the living room. Or the kitchen. Any of the quest rooms. The bathrooms. This time it seems they had chosen his bedroom. 

His bed. 

The first time he'd made love to Clark had been in that bed. _Made love._ What an idiot he'd been. Obviously it hadn't been making love for Clark. 

He paused with a hand on the doorknob. Did he really need to do this? Would it help anything to see directly what he'd already seen in photos? Suddenly feeling naseous he ran to the kitchen but nothing came up, and then he remembered the gun. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but there it was. 

Now there was a point in going into that room. 

The door opened silently, and the room's occupants didn't pause. Clinically he could recognize that Clark, flat on his back as Lionel pounded into him, was close to coming. Lionel was saying something in between grunts of effort. 

"Not - like - this - I - bet." 

"Shut up." Clark gritted out. "Just finish it." 

Lionel released a long groan and came, pulling no without concern for his partner to stretch out on the bed. Lex realized that Clark was still hard, and for a bizzare moment he was struck by how beautiful Clark really was. He'd grabbed his cock and was pulling at himself almost violently in his effort to come. 

Lex cocked the gun in his hands, and Clark noticed his presence for the first time. 

"Lex." 

His gun hand wavered and he brought up his other hand to support it. 

"What?" Lionel turned in confusion. "Son!" 

"Shut up!" The words echoed from Clark at almost the same moment that Lex spoke. 

"Lex, don't do this!" 

"I said shut up!" He wasn't sure who he was aiming for, or what he wanted to do exactly, but the man with the gun was in charge. 

Lionel stood up suddenly and Lex's finger tightened on the trigger unconsciously. He felt the kick as the gun fired, then everything was a blur until he found himself alone with Clark in the bathroom. 

"What are you?" 

"I-" 

"No. Don't lie to me. Not now. Not after you were just fucking my father!" 

"You're right. You deserve the truth. And I'll tell you. Just _calm down_. I'm going to tell you." 

He sat down on the rim of the bathtub and listened. It was hard to focus on Clark as he listened; looking at him hurt as much as _seeing_ had. Clark had been lying to him from the day they met, and finally proving that was not the relief he'd thought it would be. 

The story went on and on, and he drifted on a sea of emotional chemicals, as the occasional phrase cut through the fog. 

"Lex?" 

"Yes?" 

"Are you listening?" 

"Of course." 

"Are you okay? You understand, don't you? You get why I couldn't tell you?" 

"If I hadn't -- would you have ever told me?" 

"God, Lex, you have no idea how hard it's been not telling you. I was so afraid, when Lionel came to me-" 

* * *

He woke up with a hangover. Clark was still sleeping next to him and Lex was relived. That was the last time he would ever drink. _Nothing_ was worth such a horrible dream. Lionel had died in a fire, and both he and Clark had been in Smallville that entire day. Even the Kents had said so. He curled his hands into fists, ignoring the way his finger nails slid over the small crescent-shaped scars on his palms. Clark would be awake soon. It was just a bad dream. 

* * *

Sometimes Clark felt guilty about taking away Lex's memories. Felt bad that he was messing with a fundamental part of his lover. Betraying him the way he had by leaving him at Belle Reeve, and the way he had the night that Lex learned the truth. The whole truth. But even now, years later, there was no doubt that he'd done what needed to be done. For Lex. Lex had been put through enough, by Clark and by Lionel. He didn't need the memories. No one shouldn't have to remember that he'd killed his own father after finding him blackmailing said son's lover into sex. 

Clark still wished that he'd been less shocked and somehow faster; fast enough to stop the bullet from hitting Lionel, but his thoughts had been on Lex and speeding Lex away from everything to give himself a chance to explain. Somehow he'd been able to get Lex to listen to him, and finally, when Lex had fallen into a deep sleep brought on by emotional and physical exhaustion, Clark had destroyed all evidence of a crime and taken Lex back to Smallville while faulty wiring burned down Lex's Metropolis apartment with Lionel in it. Foul play was never suspected. 

The ship had somehow taken care of the rest, leaving Lex with no memory of his earlier discovery. Clark had given him as much of the truth as he dared, the way he should have from the beginning. To his knowledge no one had ever suspected what really happened that night. And that was the way it had to be. 

Clark turned over to find Lex staring at him with haunted eyes and tightened hands that accentuated the scars that were the only reminder of that night that the ship hadn't been able to get rid of. "Did you have a bad dream?" He asked. 

He let Lex explain haltingly bits and pieces of the dream, told him how ridiculous it was to think that Clark would betray him that way. Allowing himself to be talked into a visit to Smallville and, unknowingly for Lex a refresher of the ship's effects, Clark held Lex tightly even after he'd fallen back asleep. 

It took a while before Clark himself could sleep again. There had been no other way. The only thing that mattered now was the future. 


End file.
